


The Proper Attitude

by unrestedjade



Category: Grim Fandango
Genre: M/M, Toxic Relationship, consent issues out the wazoo, domino being a gross piece of shit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-20
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-10-08 07:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10381884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrestedjade/pseuds/unrestedjade
Summary: Domino ups the ante on how much of a dirtbag he can be, and Manny has a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.





	1. Sell high or die

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, I don't even know. I just needed to write Domino being a deeply horrible prick. It ain't Shakespeare.  
> Content: I'm not clear on the current etiquette regarding dubcon vs noncon but there is a coerced blow-job lurking in here.

“What’s up, Cal?”

What the hell was Domino Hurley doing here? Jaw clenching automatically at the sound of his voice, Manny studiously did not look away from his terminal. “It’s nearly eight o’clock. Shouldn’t you be at the bottom of a bottle by now?”

Domino laughed, strolling into the dimly-lit office like he’d been invited. “That’s a good one, Cally. You ever think about stand-up?” Hands in his pockets, he slouched across the room, reaching out now and then to straighten a picture on the wall or poke at a stray bit of clutter. He picked up one of the motivational books Don Copal kept handing out and leafed through it.

“’Turning FUD Into FUN.’ Man, where does Copal find this stuff?”

“What do you want, Domino?”

“Left something in my office,” Domino said, shrugging. “Saw a light on in here. What’s got you burning the midnight oil, little buddy?”

“Work,” Manny said, clipping the word short. He’d never been as good as Eva at giving the cold shoulder. Still, if he could hold out long enough, maybe Domino would get bored and leave.

“ _Someone_ sounds cranky. You skip dinner, Cal? You gotta keep that blood sugar in line.”

“We don’t have blood.”

“You know what I mean. C’mon, Cal, let’s go get a beer or something. My treat.”

“No, thanks.”

Aggressively not taking the hint, Domino leaned over the desk, trying to peek at the computer screen. “Those case files are ancient! Going over the tapes, eh, slugger? You know, I’ll say this for you, Calavera— you put the time in.”

It was impossible to focus with Domino hovering over his shoulder like that. Shoving his chair back from the keyboard, Manny cracked his knuckles and popped his neck. He was stiff all over— he’d started combing through his client files first thing this morning, driven by a confused exasperation. Twelve hours at his desk. He hadn’t even stopped for lunch, much less dinner. Not that he had any intention of eating with Domino. The thought alone was enough to give him a cold chill. Híjole…

Two packs’ worth of cigarette butts smoldered in his ashtray, the day’s only sustenance. His last one hung half-forgotten from his mouth. It had been smoked down to the filter ages ago. He stubbed it out in the tray, sighing. A full ashtray was all he had to show for the day’s efforts.

Domino took the opportunity to muscle in closer and read the screen. When had he gotten on this side of the desk, anyway?

He gave a low whistle. “That was a prime sale, Cal. Double-N for a family of four. God bless icy roads, am I right?” He tapped at the time-stamp. “What was that, twelve years ago? How long you been here?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Domino put up his hands in a placating gesture. “Easy, tiger! It was just a friendly question.” He shrugged. “It’s gotta be frustrating, putting in so many years of hard work and seeing your star fall now. Don’t lose heart, champ.”

“I’ll do my best not to fling myself from the window,” Manny said, though given the choice between a sixty-story drop with a short stop and being stuck in conversation with Domino Hurley, it was a tough call. He reached forward and shut down his computer. He wasn’t going to get any farther tonight, not with this irritant polluting his office.

Domino moved out of the way as Manny stood from his chair. “Hanging it up for the night?”

“No point staying any longer.”

Again, the pointed hint sailed over Domino’s head. He followed Manny out into the hallway. “You gotta make time for life, Manuel. All work and no play, am I right? How about that drink?”

“I’m going home, Domino.”

“Sure, sure. I’ll give you a lift.”

“I’d rather walk.”

“Aw, no need for all that macho posturing when it’s just us, Cal!” Slinging an arm around his shoulders, Domino steered Manny toward the elevator to the garage. “It’s dark, and your neighborhood isn’t exactly the safest. I worry about you.”

Manny took a deep breath as the elevator descended. He wasn’t going to make a scene. That was no doubt what Domino was angling for, to wind him up and get him to lose his temper. This time Manny wasn’t going to rise to the bait. If it meant avoiding a week of tired ‘fiery Latino’ jokes, he’d keep his cool.

Domino wanted to waste his gas driving across town? Fine. Manny would let him.

The car was about what Manny expected from a guy like Domino: a flashy red two-seater that practically screamed ‘I’m compensating.’ The interior was neurotically clean and had that weird rubber-and-leather chemical smell even though there was no little pine tree air freshener in sight. The passenger seat was tilted just a little too far back, but Manny didn’t care to mess with it. A guy had to pick his battles.

“I know a great chop suey place on the way to the ol’ barrio,” Domino said, peeling out of the garage with an unnecessary squeal of tires and merging into the sparse weeknight traffic.

Madre de Dios, Domino was really testing his patience. “I said no thanks.”

“You gotta take care of your health, Cal. You don’t want Copal to find you passed out on your paperwork tomorrow, do you? Come on, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

Yeah, he _was_. Manny frowned, drumming his fingers on his leg. “Why?”

Domino shot him an incredulous smirk. “Jeez, Calavera!” He shook his head. “You know what your issue is? You’re cynical. That’s why your sales are slowing down— clients can pick up on a negative vibe. Now, me? I believe the energy you put out into the universe is what you get back.”

He pulled to the curb in front of a small storefront. The flickering neon sign read ‘Golden Dragon,’ and aside from a few tired-looking stragglers waiting near the counter, the place was empty.

Domino slapped the bell on the counter with his palm. When the owner emerged from the kitchen he ordered for both of them, not that Manny cared. He just wanted this detour over and done with as soon as possible so he could get home and forget about having to spend any amount of time off the clock with his least favorite co-worker.

His thoughts drifted back to his case files while they waited. Something wasn’t adding up, but he didn’t know what. He’d spent all day searching and couldn’t come up with any kind of pattern, any change between his older clients and his more recent ones. Life histories, extenuating circumstances, virtuous deeds… his recent clients were, for the most part, in line with his old ones. Why were they consistently qualifying so much lower in the system? Where was the discrepancy?

He was jolted from his reverie by Domino shoving a carton of chow mein into his hands.

“It’s probably cat meat, but try this and tell me it’s not the best damn cat in town,” Domino said, with a glossy salesman smile.

There was no place to sit inside, so they loitered on the sidewalk. The weather was cool, with very little breeze. Walking home would have been welcome. Would have given him time to clear his head. The scent of the food reminded him that he hadn’t eaten all day, and Manny took a bite, chewing mechanically. It was very obviously pork in the chow mein, not cat, but it would be a waste of breath to point it out.

“You look like a man with something on his chest, Cal,” Domino said, gesturing with his disposable chopsticks. “Go on, let it out. It’ll help you think.”

“I can’t figure it out,” Manny said, resigning himself to the fact that he was stuck with Domino for the time it would take to eat and get to his building. He poked listlessly at a bit of carrot hiding in his noodles. “I’ve seen every type of client you can think of, including some real scumbags. Time was when I could peg what they’d qualify for after talking to them for five minutes. I just don’t know what changed.”

“It doesn’t do any good to get caught up in the past, Calavera,” Domino said, a little hastily. “The world isn’t what it used to be. You just gotta get your mind right with the here and now.”

Well, that was about as insightful as expected. Manny wondered if Domino had any settings besides ‘Clearance Rack Self-Help Book’ and ‘Asshole.’

“Hey, here’s a thought!” Domino stuck his chopsticks into his carton decisively. “What you need is a confidence boost, little buddy. Something that’ll help you get back in your stride.”

Manny frowned. “How’s that?”

“See, here’s where I’m in a unique position to help you out, Cally,” Domino said, face lighting up as he shifted into sales pitch mode. “I’ve got a lead on a little hospice granny who’s due to kick the bucket any day now. She’s easily a cruise-liner. Town car, at the very least.”

“You’d give me one of your leads? Why?” Domino didn’t have an altruistic bone in his body. Something was up.

“See, I knew you’d be suspicious. This is what I’m saying about cynicism, Cal!” Domino chuckled. He wagged a finger, mock-scolding. “But here, I thought of that, too. We can barter for it, so you don’t have to stress out waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

Manny relaxed slightly knowing that, yes, of course Domino wanted something. That was more comfortable ground than the idea of him helping out a fellow agent out of the goodness of his heart. Like a vulture eating a salad, that just wasn’t natural. “What do you want in exchange for the lead, then?”

Domino smirked. “It’s no big deal, Calavera. You can blow me for it.”

Sighing a long-suffering sigh, Manny shook his head. Well, it was really his own fault for walking into such an obvious set-up. “You had all this time, and that was the best punchline you could come up with?” Qué infantil…

Domino barked out a laugh. “It’s not a punchline, Cal.” He took up his chopsticks again. “Why would you think I’m joking? See, you do need more confidence.”

Manny froze. The noodles turned to ash in his mouth. He forced them down anyway, turning a cold glare on Domino. “You wanna run that by me again, cabrón?”

Domino shook his head, sneering. “Don’t act like you’re above it, Calavera. We’ve all sucked a few dicks in our time.” He took a bite, talking around a mouthful of noodles. “I’m trying to help you, that’s all. No need to get huffy.”

“I need your help like a hole in the head,” Manny snarled. His fists itched to rearrange Domino’s face, but he resisted the impulse. He wouldn’t start a fistfight on the street like some punk, but like hell was he going to stand there and let Domino insult him. Fuming, he threw the chow mein on the ground and stalked off.

To his surprise, Domino jogged after him. “Aw, don’t be like that, Cal! I’m making a genuine offer, here!” He caught up with Manny and slung an arm around his shoulders, which Manny quickly shrugged off. “There’s rumors going around downtown about downsizing, and I’d hate to see my little buddy get the ax. Doesn’t seem fair to such a dedicated agent like yourself.”

“You should get back to your car. El barrio is dangerous at night, don’t forget.” Manny picked up his pace, hoping to ditch his pursuer.

Domino kept up easily. Manny silently cursed his short legs.

“Look,” Domino said, still infuriatingly upbeat. “It’s late, you’re tired… I get it. Sleep on it and we can reconvene in the A.M.”

Who did this bastard think he was? “Vete a la Chingada, Domino.”

“I’ll assume that’s a yes,” Domino chuckled. He slapped Manny on the back. “Hasta la vista, little buddy! Think about it!”

With that, he spun on his heel and strolled back to his car.

Manny watched him drive off, and walked the rest of the way home in a rage.

  
#

  
It was tempting to call out sick— dinner had ended up being a couple stale tortillas with salt because he’d forgotten to pick up groceries the day before. He hadn’t slept well, either, glaring up at the ceiling and musing over all the things he should have said that evening. Why was it that he never had a good comeback until hours later? And how did Hurley always find a way to piss him off?

Calling out would just be admitting how badly Domino had got to him, though, and so Manny found himself back on the elevator after what felt like far too little time away from the office. He double-checked himself in the burnished brass of the elevator doors, making sure his tie was straight and he hadn’t missed a button on his suit jacket. The end of the quarter was coming up; he couldn’t afford to show any signs of weakness. Domino was right on that count, if nothing else. Management could smell blood in the water.

Pressed seams and a straight tie wouldn’t help his sales look any better, unfortunately. …And that train of thought put him in a bad mood all over again.

He must have looked as bad as he felt. Eva looked up from her horoscope as he passed by her desk.

“You feeling okay, Manny? How late did you stay last night?”

“Later than I should have.” Normally, Manny would have stopped to chat, but he wasn’t feeling up to it this morning. He settled for giving her a wave and dragged himself to his office.

Logging into his computer, he found he’d shut it down last night without backing up yesterday’s work. Ay, Dios. The hits just kept on coming. Well, it wasn’t like he’d turned up anything helpful— just a lot of wasted time.

No leads, no messages… The first hour of the day crawled by, and Manny found himself nodding off at his desk and growing increasingly despondent. Maybe he should have called out. It didn’t seem to matter whether he was here or not today. Then again, it was probably best not to put the idea in Don Copal’s head that the office could get along fine without him.

The message tube rattled, startling him out of a light doze. A lead? A memo? …A pink slip? Manny peered at the waiting canister, as if he could psychically divine its contents. He shook his head, annoyed at his own sudden cowardice. It was probably nothing important. Regardless, he steeled himself for the worst as he twisted the canister open.

Inside was a note from Domino. Ah. Nothing important, after all.

_Morning, slugger! Let’s talk turkey. -Domino_

Had Domino really wasted a sheet of paper to send a one-line message all the way through the tube switcher to the office right next door? Manny supposed he should be thankful that Hurley hadn’t invited himself in again.

Rather than go next door right away, Manny spent about twenty minutes making paper clip chains, because Domino wasn’t his boss and Manny wasn’t at his beck and call. It wasn’t long before curiosity got the better of him, though, and soon enough he found himself knocking on the door to what had been his own office, once upon a time.

“That you, Calavera? Come on in!”

Stepping into the office, Manny was struck with bitter nostalgia. He’d spent years working in this room. He could still make out the pale patches on the walls where his photos used to hang. Every alteration, from the arrangement of the furniture to the addition of that stupid punching bag felt like part of his afterlife being erased. All that time he thought he’d been achieving something, only to watch it all trickle away.

Domino didn’t look up right away, seemingly occupied with a stack of new case files. “Shut the door, Cal. Let’s have a pow-wow.” Taking a cigar from the humidor on his desk, he lit up. “You get my message?”

“No,” Manny said, hoping the impression of rolling his eyes came across with no actual eyes to roll. “I just couldn’t stay away.”

“You know, Cal, they say at the heart of any facetious statement lies a grain of truth.” Acrid smoke curled out from Domino’s jaw. “Did you think about our little proposal?”

It took a moment longer than it should have for Manny to translate the question. His fists clenched, though if taking a swing had been a bad idea last night it would be an even worse one now that they were both on the clock. “That joke isn’t any funnier today than it was yesterday.”

Domino shook his head. “And you’re no less dense. Listen up, because time is a factor.” He pushed an envelope across the desk. “Looks like our granny shuffled off the mortal coil early this morning, and we can’t keep a lady waiting, now can we?”

Intrigued despite himself (Domino had a flair for showmanship, damn him), Manny picked up the envelope.

“Go on,” Domino said, tapping ash from his cigar into a pristine coral ashtray. “Take a look.”

Not wanting to appear overly interested, Manny instead gestured at the cigar. “A little Freudian, don’t you think?”

Domino laughed. “Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Cal. Quit stalling and look.”

Frowning, Manny tore open the envelope. Inside was a woman’s name and a time of death, typed on the company letterhead. Manny arched a brow. It was a case assignment. Part of one, anyway.

Domino leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “See? It’s legit.”

“It’s not all here,” Manny protested. The paper had been torn in half. Most of the information, including the woman’s location, was missing.

“Well, yeah, Calavera!” Looking far too pleased with himself, Domino rolled the cigar from one side of his mouth to the other. “You get the rest when you fulfill your end of the deal. Makes sense, doesn’t it?”

Any self-respecting person would have thrown the paper back in Domino’s face and left right then. The urge was definitely there. “I’ll never be that desperate, cabrón,” Manny said, all too aware that he was still holding the envelope.

Now, at last, Domino’s grin slipped. “You’ve been pulling the lowest numbers in the department for three months straight, Cal. We both know you’re on thin ice. Now,” he said, standing and moving to pour a glass of scotch from the decanter, “you can man up for, oh, five or ten minutes, get this client, and roll yourself off Copal’s chopping block.” He shrugged. “Or you can walk away. I’ll try to have some change to toss in your hat when I see you on the sidewalk. Scotch?”

It was all Manny could do not to slap the glass right out of Domino’s outstretched hand. A weird panic was building in his chest. “Go fuck yourself, Hurley. You think I’d stoop to something like that?”

“Stoop? Kneeling is usually the way to go, Calavera.” Domino hooked back the scotch and set the glass back on the tray with a too-loud clack. “But if you really feel that strongly about it…” From his inside pocket, Domino flashed the other half of the case assignment.

Manny made a furtive attempt to read it, but Domino had folded it over.

“Keep working on that x-ray vision, Cal.” Domino smirked, tucking the paper back into his jacket. “And when you’re out on the street, remember that I gave you a chance. At least you’ll still have your pride, right?” he sneered. “Last call. Going once, going twice-”

The last few moments of Manny’s mortal life had passed in the slow, crystalline clarity of knowing what was coming and also knowing that there was nothing he could do. He hadn’t expected to feel anything like that again, but this was surprisingly close.

Already hating himself, Manny held up his hand.

It was a small, noncommittal movement, but Domino seized on it. His grin practically split his head in two. “That’s the spirit! I knew you’d come around, Cally.” Setting his cigar on the edge of the ashtray, he unfastened his belt buckle.

“Madre de Dios!” One hand raised to block such a wretched sight, Manny looked for something, anything else in the office to focus on. Not the damn cigar. The sound of the zipper was far louder than it had any right to be. “What’s wrong with you?”

Domino made an affronted noise, as if he hadn’t just whipped it out at nine-thirty on a Tuesday morning. “You didn’t think I was gonna take a rain check, did you?” He snapped his fingers, and somehow that was more vulgar than anything else so far. “Jesus, Calavera, we don’t have all day. Spare me the blushing virgin act.”

He could still leave. Manny didn’t know what kind of fucked-up power play this was, but he didn’t have to play along. What he ought to do was go back to his office and do his best to forget this had ever happened. …Where he could spend the rest of the day separating all his paper clips while he wondered how much sway Domino really had with Don Copal, particularly where employee terminations were concerned.

Damn it! How had this gotten so out of control so quickly? He’d always assumed he had lines he wouldn’t cross. Even now, he waited for an upwelling of inner strength that would let him walk out of the room, preferably with a really good parting shot. It didn’t happen. His feet carried him across the floor to Domino, each step like wading through tar.

“You look like Marie Antoinette at the goddamn guillotine,” Domino said, pushing down on Manny’s shoulder. “Relax, Cal, it’s not like it’s gonna bite you.”

Five minutes. Just five minutes. Manny kneeled, fighting down a pang of nausea. God, he wished he still had eyelids. At least then he wouldn’t have to see.

There were a lot of things that, logically, dead souls shouldn’t be able to do (with walking, talking, and existing high on the list, along with sex), but the spirit remembered the flesh that once held it. Unfortunately. Domino was already hard, smearing moisture along Manny’s cheekbone. Manny did his best not to flinch away. He didn’t know what to do with his hands. He didn’t want to do anything with them, other than maybe punch Domino right in the dick. Of all the bad fist-related ideas he’d had lately, that one was definitely the most likely to get his ass kicked.

Domino retrieved his cigar, giving the back of Manny’s head a casual nudge with his other hand. “Don’t tell me you don’t know what to do,” he said. Taking a long drag off the cigar, he blew the smoke down into Manny’s face. “It’s not rocket science, Cal.”

With any luck, Domino was a minute man. Fixing his gaze on a small scuff in the side of the desk, Manny braced himself and took Domino into his mouth. The salt-musk taste was overpowering, but he managed to hold it together with a minor sound of disgust. He moved on autopilot, trying not to think about what he was doing.

“About time.” Domino reached down to give Manny an approving pat on the cheek. “Consider this an object lesson, Cal. The way to close a deal is to assume you’re going to hear a yes. Don’t even entertain the possibility of a refusal.”

Presumably, Domino was speaking for the benefit of anyone who happened to be walking by the office, but that didn’t make it any less obnoxious. Manny would have liked to tune him out, but it was hard to actively ignore two things at once. If he tried to turn his attention away from Domino’s condescending lecture, it only drew focus to the wet slide of the cock filling his mouth.

“Visualize success, Cal. That’s key.”

Manny glanced up to find Domino watching him intently, the greasy smile on his face putting the lie to his casual tone. Once they’d locked eyes it was hard to look away, though Manny would have preferred to go back to staring at the side of the desk, or literally anything else aside from what was right in front of him. He glared up at Domino, who only smiled wider.

“Keep it up, little buddy, you’re doing great.” Domino took a drag off his cigar. “Where was I? Closing, right. Always be closing, Cal. I can’t stress that enough. The thing to remember,” he said, rubbing small circles behind Manny’s jaw with his thumb, “the most important thing to keep in mind is that, deep down, they want what you’re selling even if they don’t know it.”

Shuddering with revulsion, Manny slapped the hand away. Letting himself be touched wasn’t part of the deal.

Domino sighed. “Everything has to be a fight with you, doesn’t it?” He gripped the back of Manny’s head and shoved, making him gag. “You really need to let that hostility go. It’s not good for you.”

Manny coughed, bringing his hands up to push against Domino’s legs. Knowing he couldn’t actually suffocate didn’t make having Domino’s cock jammed to the back of his throat any less unpleasant. It was impossible to form coherent words at the moment, but Manny cursed him as well as he was able.

“On the other hand,” Domino said, lowering his voice but not loosening his grip. “At least you’re showing a little spirit. Can’t understand a damn thing you’re saying, Cal.” He thrust into Manny’s mouth, making no attempt to be gentle. “But fuck if that accent doesn’t hit the spot.”

Domino went on talking, but Manny wasn’t listening, too preoccupied with trying not to heave while Domino fucked him. He growled his frustration even as he choked, throat spasming around the intrusion. A slight jerk of Domino’s hips was the only warning he got before a final, vicious thrust and a rush of briny heat filled his mouth and throat.

He tried to pull away, but Domino held him firmly in place. “Spitters are quitters, Calavera.”

Nausea returning full force, Manny nonetheless forced himself to swallow.

“Now, was that so bad?” Satisfied, Domino let go, freeing Manny to stumble backward, coughing and sputtering.

While Domino buttoned his fly, Manny staggered to his feet. His knees were sore and his jaw ached. That was about as far as he wanted to think about his present condition.

Domino held out another glass, generously filled.

Manny glared. “You don’t have anything stronger?” he said, taking the drink. “Like bleach?” He tossed back the scotch, grateful for the clean burn it left behind. He would have drained the decanter just to get that taste out of his mouth.

“Such a kidder,” Domino said, chuckling. He clapped Manny on the shoulder. “Well, I’d say that was a productive meeting, wouldn’t you? You can show yourself out.”

Manny heard his empty glass hit the floor before he realized he’d dropped it. The sharp crack of breaking glass hit him like a slap in the face, and he took a step forward, shaking. “We had a _deal_ , Hurley.”

Domino met his murderous glare, then burst out laughing. “Oh, man, Calavera, the look on your face right now! Priceless!” With an effort, he calmed himself, dabbing an imaginary tear from the corner of one eye socket. “Hoo… Take it easy, Cally, I’m just messing with you.” He cuffed Manny playfully on the cheek.

“The assignment, cabrón,” Manny insisted, teeth clenched.

Domino pulled out the other half of the case assignment. “You gotta lighten up a little, Cal. It’s not healthy.” Ignoring Manny’s waiting palm, he stepped in close to slip the paper into the inside pocket of Manny’s jacket. “There. We’re square.”

He didn’t step back. Instead, his gaze dropped to Manny’s chest. He grinned. “Looks like you got a little something on your tie, slugger.”

Manny followed his line of sight, horrified to see a conspicuous stain on his necktie. He would have walked right out into the hallway like that and been none the wiser.

“Here,” Domino said, loosening the knot at Manny’s throat and slipping the tie off. “You can borrow mine.” Pocketing the soiled tie, he removed his own and looped it around Manny’s neck. It felt uncannily like a noose. As Domino cinched up the knot, Manny couldn’t help noticing that the fabric was still warm.

“Much better. Gotta look professional for the clients.” Domino stepped back, looking Manny up and down. “Huh. That’s actually a good color on you.”

Manny was going to be sick. He’d have to take care of his new client first, but as soon as that was done he intended to keep his afternoon clear for bouts of dry heaving along with burning Domino’s tie in the wastebasket. “Are we done here?” he said, annoyed at how gravelly his own voice sounded.

Domino shrugged. “I’m not your boss— you can leave any time you want.” He returned to his desk, dismissing Manny with a casual wave. “Pleasure doing business with you, Calavera.”

He turned his attention back to his work, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened at all.

Manny let himself out. Once again, he had no parting shot. 


	2. Low-hanging fruit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Dom continues to be a shithead, news at eleven.

Another slow day. Manny straightened his desk for the third time in as many hours and sighed. An unopened message tube sat next to his computer, taunting him as it had all day.

 

He was at three sales this week, and only one of them had been decent.

 

That abuelita had led a good life, and she’d always wanted to go on a cruise. She was a little late to cross that one off the bucket list, but better late than never, no? Domino had been as good as his word.

 

Copal had given him a literal pat on the back, though he’d looked a little puzzled. That hurt, if Manny was honest. What, Copal didn’t think he could do his job? He’d been the top-selling agent in the bureau for years.

 

…Yeah, the past tense was the important part of that sentence.

 

Manny cast a doleful glare at the ashes in his wastebasket. The cleaning lady hadn’t emptied it last night. Again. In a sudden fit of irritation, he scribbled a note telling her to stop leaving her supplies in his office and stuck it to the side of the filing cabinets. He’d nearly wrenched his ankle tripping over her mop bucket earlier in the week, and he knew she stashed things in his cabinet. His uniform smelled like glass cleaner.

 

Surprisingly, the fit of passive-aggression did little to make him feel better. He leaned against the cabinet, staring out the window. The city was turning burnt-sugar mellow tones— close to quitting time, if it wasn’t already. It was too much effort at the moment to look at his watch.

 

What was worse, letting his sales numbers slip again after what he’d had to do to pull them up last week, or going back for seconds? Did he have that much of a choice in the matter? He didn’t think he did, but then that was the kind of comforting lie everyone told themselves when the alternative was too hard, wasn’t it? He needed this job. He’d made the choice to safeguard it. Hurley hadn’t held a gun to his head.

 

His gaze drifted back to the tube. He didn’t know the message was from Domino. For all he knew, it was just a memo from Eva. Part of him wanted to go down to her desk and ask if she’d sent anything out, but he resisted the urge. He noticed himself pacing and stopped on the chance that Domino could hear him through the wall.

 

Basta. Returning to his desk, Manny snatched up the message tube. Either it was from Domino or it wasn’t. It was better to know for sure and have it over with.

 

_Cal, got a lead and a glass of scotch with your name on it. -Domino_

 

Manny didn’t know whether he should feel relieved or not. All he knew was he needed a smoke. Patting his pockets, he found the battered pack. Empty. He sighed. He was going to start buying the damn things by the carton.

 

He glanced at his watch. It was twenty past five. Shit. He hadn’t realized it was so late. Was Domino even still here?

 

Stepping out into the hallway, he could see Eva’s empty desk at the far end. If she was gone for the day, that meant Copal was, too.

 

The lights were on in Hurley’s office. Manny lingered outside the door for a minute. He ought to go home. But as much as he hated to admit it, he’d liked seeing his numbers improve. For the first time in a while, he’d had some breathing room.

 

If he hesitated too long Hurley was bound to notice his shadow through the stained glass of the door, if he hadn’t already. Manny cursed himself. What was the point of dragging it out when he already knew what he was going to do?

 

A glass of scotch and nothing else sat on Domino’s desk. Manny would have preferred to see even the flimsiest pretense of work— anything to deny the fact that Domino had been so sure Manny would obey his summons that he’d waited here for him. And he’d been right, the miserable bastard.

 

“Fashionably late, eh, Calavera?” Domino raised his glass and took a swig. Doubtless it wasn’t his first of the evening.

 

Manny didn’t know what reply he could make that wouldn’t imply he’d been avoiding this.

 

“By the way,” Domino said, rising to grab another glass and the decanter, “where’s that tie I lent you?”

 

“In my wastebasket,” Manny said, with feigned mildness. “I can scoop up the ashes for you if you want it back that badly.”

 

Domino raised a brow. “Thought I smelled something burning. Real mature, Cal. That was silk, you know.”

 

“I noticed.” It was petty, but Manny couldn’t help the smallest twitch of a smile.

 

“Ha! Well,” Domino said, more amused than annoyed. “I guess I’ll just be keeping yours, then. Fair’s fair.”

 

“What made you think I wanted it back?” Manny caught himself reaching for a pack of cigarettes he didn’t have. Damn it. “Did you just want to bitch about your tie? Because I have better things to do.” He didn’t, but it was the principle of the thing.

 

Domino chuckled and poured two fingers of scotch into the glass. “Got a lead for you. Not blow job caliber, but better than anything you’ve scratched up for yourself this week.”

 

Did Hurley need to be so crude? If Manny had still had skin, it would be crawling. Still, he accepted the glass when Domino offered it to him. He had a feeling he’d need it. Scotch couldn’t quite wash the self-loathing out of his mouth, but they both knew why he was here, so why be coy? Better to get it over with. “What do you want, then?”

 

“Oh, Cal, what’s your hurry? It doesn’t have to be business all the time, especially after hours.” Domino refilled his own glass and sat back down, gesturing for Manny to take one of the chairs opposite the desk.

 

Figuratively rolling his eyes, Manny took a seat, doing his best to appear at ease. It felt strange to be on this side of his old desk. The whole room looked different from this angle. He didn’t like it.

 

Domino swirled the scotch in his glass, admiring its color in the amber sunlight streaming in through the blinds. “So, what do you think about that new kid in the mail room? What a putz, right? I give him a week.”

 

Was Domino trying to make small talk? Why? Manny shook his head. “This isn’t a social call, Hurley. Get to the point.”

 

“Two colleagues can’t have a friendly chat after work?” Domino sighed sorrowfully. “What happened to us, huh, Cally? Back when I started here you were so friendly.”

 

“I didn’t know any better.”

 

“You know what I thought when I first met you?” Domino went on, as if he hadn’t heard him. “I thought, here’s a guy who really gets it. No bullshit. Not like the other losers kicking around here.”

 

Manny couldn’t help an incredulous snort. “How much of that have you had?” he said, gesturing to the decanter.

 

“It’s not the scotch talking.” Domino grinned. “What do I keep telling you about your self esteem? You’re too good for this place, Manny. We both are.” He leaned over the desk to refill Manny’s glass, three fingers’ worth this time.

 

“I’m a mean drunk,” Manny warned, though he didn’t move his glass aside. When had he emptied it? That had been more than a double shot, and he didn’t hold his liquor well.

 

“Oh, I remember,” Domino said, with a filthy smirk. “I’m counting on it.”

 

The scotch took the edge off Manny’s revulsion, just barely. “I’ve had all the small talk I can stand,” he said. “What’s the lead?”

 

“Always got your eye on the prize,” Domino said, raising his glass in a mock salute. “That’s exactly what I mean, Cal.”

 

Manny said nothing, unwilling to humor Domino a minute longer than necessary.

 

Reaching into in his inside pocket, Domino pulled out an envelope identical to the first and laid it on the desk. He stopped Manny from picking it up with a hand on his wrist. “Finish your drink first. It’s good stuff, no sense wasting it.”

 

Frowning, Manny threw back the remainder of the scotch. He hadn’t intended on finishing this glass— his head was already starting to swim. Drinking this much this quickly struck him as a bad idea, but he wasn’t put off enough to press the issue. He set the empty glass on the desk and Domino released him.

 

The paper inside wasn’t torn. The details of the lead painted the client as decent but not saintly by any stretch of the imagination. A classier car rental, at best.

 

“Like I said,” Domino said, reading his expression. “Nothing too special. I’m practically giving it away.”

 

“What do you want?” Manny was fully prepared to pocket the lead and leave if Domino pushed for too much. What was Domino going to do about it if he did, file a complaint?

 

Domino sighed as if disappointed. “C’mon, Cal, this doesn’t have to be some cold, calculated transaction, does it?”

 

Manny didn’t look up, working on memorizing the information on the paper. “That’s exactly what it is.”

 

“Have it your own way,” Domino said, and now his hands were on Manny’s shoulders, kneading them through the layers of his clothing.

 

Manny flinched at the unexpected contact. The scotch must have gotten to him faster than he’d thought. He hadn’t even noticed Domino getting up, too focused on the lead. Shaking off Domino’s hands, he lurched to his feet. Uncertain what Domino was up to and anxiety spiking as the larger man loomed over him, Manny moved to sidestep around him.

 

The scotch made him too slow. Domino caught him around the waist and hauled back, pinning him against the edge of the desk. Throwing an arm out to catch himself, Manny upset Domino’s glass, spilling scotch across the desktop and over his hand.

 

“Easy, killer.” Domino crowded against him, and it was wishful thinking to assume it was a gun in his pocket. “Thought you wanted to get to business.” Scotch and cigars mingled on his breath.

 

He caught Manny’s wrist, hauling his hand up between them and examining the rivulets of scotch running down the bones.

 

“What did I say about wasting this stuff?” Domino shifted his grip and forced Manny’s palm to his mouth, licking the scotch up in slow strokes.

 

Stomach twisting, Manny wrenched his hand free. “Get off me, cabrón!”

 

“You got yours, now it’s my turn,” Domino tutted, grinding lazily against him. “Relax, Cal. You think I’d bend you over the desk for this shitty lead?” He gestured at the printout, which had fallen to the floor in Manny’s haste to get away.

 

“Terms first,” Manny growled, shoving at Domino and mortified when he only managed to overbalance himself. Had he really gotten that out of shape, or was Hurley just freakishly strong?

 

Domino chuckled and shook his head. “Where’s the trust, Cal? Sometimes a guy appreciates a little spontaneity, that’s all. You gotta stay flexible in this business.”

 

He wrapped an arm around Manny’s waist, pressing him back at an angle that made his spine twinge. Manny fought to hold himself up and knocked the emptied glass onto the floor, heard the dull crack of glass against the carpet.

 

Domino tsked at him, pinning the offending arm to the desk. “I wouldn’t piss off the cleaning staff if I were you.” He chuckled as if he’d just made a very clever joke. “Never a good idea to get on their bad side when you’re sharing an office.”

 

Manny told him exactly how funny he thought Domino was, though the scotch had rendered him incapable of English for the moment. The idea came across well enough without translation.

 

“Keep talking like that, and I’ll have to find you a better lead,” Domino said, grinning and leaning in closer to better listen to Manny’s insults.

 

Swallowing bile, Manny clenched his teeth and willed himself to shut up. For an interminable minute, the only sounds in the room were the rough slide of fabric and the creaking of the desk as Domino rutted against him in an obscene mimicry of sex. Manny tried to ignore the sensation of a body against his, of mass and friction against his hips, but it had been a long time since he’d been with anyone. The part of his brain that still lived in the stone age didn’t much care about circumstances, and his body was responding in kind whether he liked it or not.

 

“Kinda pointless to keep up the put-upon hostage act, don’t you think?” Letting go of his wrist, Domino dragged his hand down the length of Manny’s thigh, hauling upward with a grip behind his knee.

 

If he’d been sober, Manny might have been able to keep his balance, but he wasn’t, and couldn’t. His back hit the desktop with a heavy thud, and he felt the puddle of spilled scotch soak into his jacket. The new angle forced his legs apart and made Domino’s hardness more difficult to ignore, digging into his groin insistently. Each mocking thrust sent a little twist of pleasure through his hips, creeping up his spine and through his limbs like the alcohol seeping into his jacket.

 

“Son of a bitch,” Manny growled, only to catch himself when Domino’s face lit up.

 

Since shoving at Domino hadn’t worked last time, he hooked one hand over the edge of the desk and tried to pull himself away. He’d had enough of whatever this bullshit was. The lead wasn’t worth it.

 

“Now, don’t worry, Cal,” Domino said, grip tightening on Manny’s leg and dragging him back, grinding into him harder, almost painfully so. “It doesn’t count against you if you have a little fun, too. God knows you need it.”

 

Tugging Manny’s tie loose and popping the top two buttons of his shirt, Domino stroked along his collarbones, staring down at him with open hunger. His hand slid up to palm Manny’s throat. The pressure sent an unhappy thrill down his spine.

 

“If you still had a pulse, it’d be hammering away right here,” Domino purred. “Isn’t that right?”

 

“Go fuck yourself, Hurley.”

 

Domino laughed, the kind of ass-kisser laugh he used when Copal made a bad joke. “Always such a charmer! Gotta admit, I’m developing a taste for it, Cal.”

 

And then, without warning, Domino stepped back and let him up. Manny scrabbled for purchase on the smooth surface of the desk, fighting against panic and inebriation as he floundered upright.

 

His shock must have shown on his face.

 

“I think that’s adequate for this lead, don’t you?” Domino said, gesturing at the envelope on the floor.

 

Manny snatched it up and shoved it into his pocket, a wave of dizziness punishing him for standing too fast. Domino followed the motion with his gaze, his grin spreading.

 

“What?” Manny snapped, hating the way his voice wavered.

 

Domino shook his head. “Nothing. Have fun walking it off, tiger.”

 

Glancing down, Manny flushed at the tenting of his pants. Domino laughed again, completely unselfconscious of his own erection.

 

“God, it must be exhausting, being so uptight,” Domino said, shrugging and returning to sit behind the desk. “You can go ahead and run along home, amigo. We’re finished here for now.”

 

He made a dismissive gesture, and all at once Manny found himself excused. Once again, everything had spun out of control too fast for him to handle. How the hell did Hurley keep doing that? And how did Manny keep letting it happen?

 

Burning with humiliation and anger, he retreated, fumbling with his shirt buttons and forced to walk a little slower than he otherwise might. The scotch made the floor shift treacherously under his feet. The ache between his legs was impossible to ignore, every step a recrimination. He slammed the door behind him, half hoping the glass would break. It didn’t.

 

Done. He was done. Fuck Hurley.

 

 

 

 

 

Domino listened to the receding footsteps in the hallway and the soft ding of the elevator as Calavera ran away.

 

Retrieving his glass from the floor, he poured himself another finger of scotch and took an appreciative swig. Unhurried, he unfastened his belt and fly, sighing in relief as the strain on his erection eased. He’d only meant to mess with Calavera’s head a little, but damn if the guy didn’t know how to push his buttons.

 

The fact that Manny had let him take it that far was either a testament to how low the poor bastard had sunk or something altogether more interesting. Either way, he was going to have to find a better lead for next time.

 

Thinking about Manny reciting baseball statistics while he walked home for a cold shower was hilarious, but picturing him ducking into a mens’ room to furtively take care of himself was more useful at present, and not outside the realm of possibility. Palming himself with one hand, Domino unlocked his lower desk drawer, where he kept his personal effects, and pulled out a stained length of paisley-patterned cloth.

 

No way in hell was Calavera getting his tie back. Not until Domino was good and done with it, anyway. Looping it around his hand, he crushed the fabric against his nose and mouth, inhaling deeply. His own scent mingled with the heavy spice of Manny’s cologne. He held the breath until his head felt light, then blew out slowly, savoring it. The scent would fade eventually. By then, however, he’d have a better alternative.

 

He replayed the last five minutes as he worked his hand over his cock. The feel of Manny’s firm, compact body under his, how that body responded to Domino’s touch so readily. Manny’s glare piercing him, and the enticing Spanish filth falling from his mouth. The way his voice had gone rough even as he made a show of trying to get away.

 

He’d approached this as a sort of game, seeing how far he could push his defeated rival before the man either ratted him out or quit. But opportunity was knocking with promises of something more rewarding, if he played his cards right.

 

Domino took another long drag of Manny’s cologne and switched hands, relishing the silky slip of the tie as he pumped faster. He rested his head against the back of the chair, imagining that sonorous, lushly accented voice saying other things, friendlier things, filthier things…

 

Sucking in a sharp breath, he cupped his hand over himself as he came. It was stronger for having been diverted, locking his joints and blacking his vision for a moment. He let himself sag into the chair, blissed out and breath heaving. Then, carefully, he used the tie to blot up any stray droplets that had slipped through, balled it up, and replaced it in the drawer.

 

It really wouldn’t do to piss off the cleaning staff, after all.

 

 

 


End file.
